


Back Pay

by zathara001



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:09:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zathara001/pseuds/zathara001
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, Steve gets a visit from Maria Hill. She has a minor administrative matter for him to handle...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: It should be blindingly obvious, but I don't own anything to do with any of the characters herein - Disney/Marvel does. If they should want anything of this story, it's hereby given to them.

 

= = = = =

 

In the aftermath of not only waking up after a seven-decade nap but also an alien invasion, Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America, found himself without a job and, worse, without a purpose.

 

He'd hated that the most, back in the '40s, when enlistment officer after enlistment officer rejected his application - the lack of purpose. All his life, Steve had felt that he was meant to do _something_. It wouldn't be anything grand, he'd thought, just something to justify his existence in the world.

 

The Second World War had come along, and fighting Nazis, or even supporting those who actually fought in some capacity other than collecting scrap metal, seemed to fit the bill perfectly. Except Steve's health meant the Army didn't want him. Neither did the Navy nor the Marine Corps. If the Air Force had been around then, they wouldn't have wanted him, either.

 

Dr. Erskine had given him a chance, and eventually, that chance allowed him to fight the Nazis. Finally, Steve had a purpose, and he'd always been grateful for that, even as he was guiding the _Valkyrie_ toward what he'd assumed would be his death.

 

Only it hadn't been. He'd awakened in a very mocked-up hospital room with an anachronistic baseball game playing on the radio and a woman dressed just slightly _off_ of how he remembered, certain he was the victim of some Nazi plot.

 

One very clumsy escape later, Steve found himself in a Times Square he only barely recognized, and there was no way the Nazis had come up with a plot even half as crazy as the truth.

 

Not even a week after that, Steve was fighting once again, this time beside other costumed adventurers against an alien invasion. Even in the middle of combat, even facing down monsters worse than any nightmare he might have had, he'd been glad to have purpose once again.

 

But now that fight was over, and Steve had no idea what to do with himself.

 

At the moment, he sat in the apartment Tony Stark - so like his father it was both funny and painful - had provided, a sketchbook open on his lap, pencil poised to draw … what? Another view of the New York skyline - one that didn't include Stark Tower?

 

Before he could decide, a knock sounded at his door.

 

Steve set the sketchbook aside and crossed the apartment - ridiculously large by his standards, ridiculously small by Tony's - and opened the door, coming up short when he saw the dark-haired woman standing in his hallway.

 

"You may not remember me, Captain Rogers," she began. "We met on the helicarrier."

 

Steve wouldn't forget anyone as beautiful as she was. He swallowed and said, "I remember, Commander Hill. Is there a problem?"

 

"Not a problem so much as some administrative details that need to be handled," she said. "I wanted to call before I came over, but nobody has a telephone number for you."

 

"I haven't gotten a cell phone yet," he said, and suddenly remembered his manners. "But come in, Commander. Would you like some coffee? Water?"

 

"Just water, thanks," she said and gave him a hint of a smile.

 

He swallowed again, gestured her toward the living room. "Please, have a seat. I'll be right back."

 

Steve crossed to the kitchen, filled two glasses with water, and brought them to the living room, offered one to Maria Hill.

 

"Thank you." She took a drink.

 

"How can I help you?" That was it, Steve told himself, fall back on formalities and duty. It had worked well enough for him before, when he'd had to figure out how to act, how to _be_ with Peggy - _no_ , he was _not_ going to think of her now.

 

That way led only to grief and heartbreak over a future he'd never gotten to have, rather than looking forward to the future he had now, and whatever purpose he might find in it. He focused again on Maria Hill when she sat forward slightly.

 

"Mostly I need your signature on some forms returning you to active duty status and so on."

 

Steve felt his eyebrows climbing. "Active duty?"

 

"The Battle of New York counts as military service, and you were in it."

 

"I just did what anyone would do," he said.

 

"Not just anyone, Captain, and you know that as well as I do." Her tone was stern, but Steve thought he saw amusement in her eyes.

 

"Maybe," he admitted. "But why does that require returning to active duty status?"

 

"Most important reason first? So you get paid for it."

 

Steve blinked, surprised by her directness, but then he remembered that she worked for Nick Fury and thought that directness might be one of her better attributes. Still, the offer of a paycheck was one he couldn't entirely refuse. He didn't want to be beholden to anyone for his keep, even if Tony Stark had said, "Dad would come back from his grave to kill me himself if I didn't help you out. Forget it."

 

"All right," Steve said. "But I didn't do it for a paycheck."

 

"I know that," she replied. "But you have to eat - and a healthy amount, too, I'd imagine."

 

Steve chuckled ruefully. "You've been reading Dr. Erskine's journals."

 

"No, just supply requisition records."

 

She said it so dryly that for a moment Steve thought she was kidding. Then she continued, "There's a noticeable uptick in combat rations ordered after you went on active duty."

 

Steve blew out a breath. "It took a lot of special requests, and eventually Colonel Phillips had to contact General Eisenhower directly to get permission for the increased ration allowance."

 

"I'm sorry to say that Army bureaucracy has only gotten worse in the intervening decades."

 

"I wish I could say I'm surprised. What do you need from me?"

 

"A lot of autographs," Maria said, deadpan, and Steve glanced up at her, startled, until she smiled again. "On a lot of forms, Captain, relax."

 

There were more forms than Steve had ever dreamed might exist, and he signed them all as Maria explained them, until one made him stop.

 

"Wait, what's this?"

 

"As I said, it's the application for your back pay."

 

"No, I heard that. I mean the amount."

 

"I know, it's a little low, but this is just your base pay. The special allotments - housing allowance, combat pay, foreign duty pay - are a different set of challenges, and we're contacting the JAG for assistance with them."

 

"Low?" Steve stared at her. "It's almost five million dollars."

 

"Four million, eight hundred three thousand and change," Maria said.

 

"How am I possibly owed almost five million dollars?"

 

"I have a spreadsheet," Maria said, and flipped through the sheaf of papers she'd brought until she found the one she was looking for and passed it to Steve.

 

He glanced down at neat columns - year, rank, pay grade, base monthly salary, base annual salary.

 

"You've been restored to POW/MIA status for all the years you were presumed killed in action," Maria explained. "As you served time in grade making you eligible for promotion, those promotions are assumed to happen automatically. We allowed four years at each rank, though an argument could be made for three, or even two during years when you would presumably have seen active combat."

 

"The war ended in 1945."

 

"That war, yes," Maria agreed. "But then there was Korea, Viet Nam, Iraq, Afghanistan, Iraq again - and those are just declared military actions I can think of off the top of my head."

 

But Steve's attention had caught on another detail. "I've been a four-star general for forty-one years?"

 

"Technically, yes," Maria said. Then she pursed her lips, thoughtful. "Though I think you should keep the codename Captain America. General America sounds like a bad name for a corporation."

 

Steve laughed, briefly, still too astonished by the total at the bottom of the spreadsheet to fully register her comment.

 

 _Five million dollars._ It was more than he'd ever expected to have in his life, an amount he barely comprehended. Finally, he looked up at Maria, gesturing at her with the paper he still held.

 

"What am I supposed to do with all that money?"

 

"Well." She looked thoughtful again. "It's really not that much, by today's standards - not enough that I can say _whatever you want_ , anyway."

 

"Not like Tony Stark," Steve blurted, and was relieved when Maria only nodded.

 

"Right. And while I can't tell you how to spend it, I do have some advice."

 

"Anything will help," Steve said.

 

"Take some of it - maybe fifty thousand, maybe a hundred thousand - and do whatever you want with that. Mad money, they call it. Buy something you've always wanted. Take a trip somewhere. Drop it all on hookers and blow - whatever."

 

"Hookers and blow?" Steve repeated. He'd heard a lot of unfamiliar slang in this century, but he'd been able to figure most of it out. This had him completely confused - more so when Maria blushed.

 

"Never mind," she said hastily. "The point is, don't worry about what you do with that money. Leave the rest of it in a bank or a money market account until you can think about it with a clear head."

 

Steve stared at the number at the bottom of the sheet he held. Five million dollars really _was_ a lot of money, he thought, even by today's standards if not Tony's. He could do a lot with it, if he only had an idea what to use it for.

 

 _Same problem, different angle,_ Steve decided, thinking about his own lack of purpose in this new century - new millennium, even. Whatever purpose he ultimately found, five million dollars would help him achieve it.

 

Still …

 

"Do I have to take it?" he asked.

 

"Technically, no."

 

Maria's tone made Steve look up to study her more intently. Her expression was controlled, carefully neutral. "You think I should."

 

"I think no one deserves it more than you do," she said after a moment. "I think that if it were any of your Commandos, you'd tell them to take it without hesitation. And I think that the only thing more maddening than a bureaucracy following its procedures is that same bureaucracy when someone doesn't follow its procedures."

 

"So I should take pity on the poor accounting clerks and follow procedure?" Steve asked, amused.

 

"That's one way of looking at it."

 

"In that case…." Steve put the spreadsheet aside, signed his name on the application, and handed it back to Maria. "Next?"

 

"That was the last one, Captain." Maria stacked the papers neatly, returned them to the file folder, and started to stand.

 

"Are you busy tonight?"

 

Maria looked as startled by the question as he felt for having asked it. "Why?"

 

"Well, I have fifty thousand dollars to spend on whatever I want, and since I have no idea what hookers and blow might be, buying a beautiful woman dinner is a good way to spend some of it."

 

 _Wait, was that actually smooth?_ Steve replayed his words in his mind. _Maybe not smooth, but at least I wasn't a babbling fool. I don't think._

 

Maria hesitated before answering, and Steve had almost convinced himself she was going to refuse when she said, "No, I'm not busy. I'd like to have dinner with you."

 

Steve smiled, hoping it didn't look as relieved as he felt. "I hope you know someplace good around here."

 

"I might." Maria smiled back, and for now, Steve thought, taking her to dinner was purpose enough.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's one other thing Maria forgot to mention....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So … yes. Much like the first chapter snuck up on me, this one did, too. I hope you enjoy it.

One of the pleasures of New York in any time was the abundance – or, rather, overabundance – of good restaurants. Clint had observed that you could throw a dart at a map of the city and, even without his skill in marksmanship, chances were you’d hit a good restaurant.

 

Steve had found one of those restaurants only a block away from his apartment, and it was there that he walked with Maria Hill. It wasn't fancy by any measure, but then Steve wasn't drawn to fancy for fancy's sake. He just wanted a good meal, and Beryl's Café had very good meals. He only hoped Maria shared his opinion.

 

They were quiet while the hostess seated them and their server brought glasses of water. It wasn’t a bad quiet, Steve reflected – not as awkward or uncomfortable as he’d been with women before he’d gone into the ice – just the quiet that battle comrades could share. No, they hadn’t fought side by side against the Chitauri, but they’d both fought in their own capacities, they’d both survived, and they’d both mourned the fallen. That brought an understanding that no one who hadn’t done those things could share.

 

"There’s one other thing," Maria said after the server had taken their orders.

 

"More paperwork?" Steve asked, amused. "I think my hand’s recovered enough for it."

 

"It might be more enjoyable than paperwork."

 

Now Steve’s curiosity was piqued. "There’s a very long list of things that are more enjoyable than paperwork."

 

"It depends on what you find enjoyable," Maria countered. "President Ellis is hosting an event to welcome you back."

 

Her choice of phrasing made him frown. That sounded like something Tony would say, and Tony was enough like his father that Steve couldn't keep suspicion from tinging his voice when he asked, "What kind of event?"

 

"One with as much media exposure as possible," Maria answered in a dry tone that made Steve laugh despite his suspicion. "Seriously – he hasn’t been very popular lately, and he probably hopes to boost his ratings as a result of this."

 

"He’s using me." Steve heard his tone go flat but couldn’t regret it. He’d had enough of being used while he was on the USO circuit.

 

"Almost two hundred different members of Congress, including all twenty-nine members from New York, nominated you for the Medal of Honor."

 

Steve blinked, surprised not just by the number of nominations but by the fact that he’d been nominated at all. "Really?"

 

"Really. And they passed the Act of Congress confirming it within twenty-four hours. Unanimously. If anyone’s using you, it’s them."

 

"But you don’t think they are."

 

"Of course they are. They can't help it." Maria met his gaze. "But I don't believe it's intentional this time."

 

Steve blew out a breath. "Okay. What happens now?"

 

"The presentation ceremony is scheduled for next Tuesday at four, with dinner to follow."

 

"I didn’t do it - any of it - for an award."

 

"I know."

 

"Seems like nobody else does, even if I am in the history books." The bitterness in his tone surprised even Steve. "Sorry."

 

"Don’t be," Maria told him. "You have the right to feel what you feel."

 

Maria paused as their meals arrived – cheeseburger and fries for him, a Cobb salad for her – and after the server moved on, she added, "And you have the right to be left alone, too, if you want to be."

 

"Rights come with duties attached," Steve countered.

 

"You think accepting the Medal is a duty?" Maria looked curious.

 

"It is. It’s my duty to honor the men I fought beside, the ones who didn’t make it back." For a moment, his heart clenched at the memory of Bucky falling from that train in the Alps. Steve pushed the memory aside. "If I can use the ceremony to honor them, I will."

 

Maria gave him a conspiratorial smile. "The ceremony will be televised. And I don’t doubt you’ll have an opportunity to speak, if you want."

 

Steve grinned in response. "Good. It’s only fair to use him if he’s going to use me."

 

Maria laughed and once again they fell into a companionable silence as they ate.

 

"But at least I know what some of that money will be spent on."

 

"What's that?"

 

"A dress uniform."

 

#

 

Even before he guided the _Valkyrie_ into the sea, it had been a long time since Steve had to put on his public façade. He’d spent the most recent couple of years on the front lines, where he’d been free to be Steve Rogers, just another soldier – if one enhanced by the super-soldier serum.

 

Now, though, standing beside Maria Hill on the White House lawn, Steve reminded himself that he had to be Captain America, not Captain Rogers, at least when he spoke with anyone he didn’t know - and, surprisingly, there were people he knew in attendance. Clint and Natasha had taken seats near the rear of the small assembly. Tony Stark, of course, mingled with senators and representatives. More surprisingly, Steve caught a glimpse of the waitress he’d spoken to at a café near Stark Tower. She waved, shyly, and he nodded back with a smile.

 

"Turns out you do know some people here after all," Maria observed.

 

Steve gave her a rueful grin. That had been his excuse when he’d asked her to accompany him, that he’d appreciate the comfort of one familiar face. It had been a flimsy excuse, but she’d agreed anyway. Now, though, he had to say, "Sorry to ruin your evening."

 

"Are you kidding?" Maria asked. "Having dinner with the president at the White House is hardly a ruined evening." She paused, then added, "And it’s one of the few reasons for a night off Fury won’t argue with."

 

That made Steve chuckle. "Hard taskmaster, is he?"

 

"As hard as he needs to be," Maria answered seriously. "And SHIELD’s the better for it."

 

Before Steve could respond, a young man approached them. "Captain Rogers? If you’ll come with me, sir? We’re about ready to start."

 

Steve turned to Maria, but she shook her head. "They don’t want me up there with you. I’ll sit with Clint and Natasha and join you after."

 

"I’ll see you later," he said, because he felt he had to say something, and then turned to follow the young man.

 

A few minutes later, Steve took a place stage left of the podium standing at attention as he scanned the room. It was full of people sitting auditorium-style facing him and the podium. The front row was filled with people who he assumed were important but didn’t recognize. They, along with the rest of the gathered crowd, fell silent as President Matthew Ellis approached the podium.

 

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Ellis began. "Thank you all for coming today. I’ve often begun ceremonies such as this one with a brief history of the honoree’s life and actions, recounting their deeds and bravery, but every one of us present today is familiar with the story of Captain Steven Grant Rogers."

 

 _At least he's not talking only about Captain America._ It was more than Steve had expected, and his respect for this unfamiliar president ratcheted up a notch.

 

"Of a man so eager to serve his country that, in addition to registering for the draft, he attempted to enlist five different times," Ellis continued. "Ultimately, he was accepted as a volunteer for a medical experiment, one that turned him from a frail, sickly person into a super-soldier."

 

Ellis continued with a history of Steve’s work with the USO to drum up support for the war effort, and Steve let his mind wander. It was a part of his life he – well, he couldn’t say he wasn’t proud of it, but he was less proud of it than he was other parts. In any event, it wasn’t a part he particularly enjoyed reminiscing. Better to look forward than back over unpleasant memories, after all.

 

But that brought him right back to the problem he’d had since the Battle of New York ended. What, exactly, did he have to look forward to in this time? He still had no clear purpose, and that bothered him even more than putting on his public façade again did.

 

That was a worry for another time. Now, Steve realized that the cadence of the president's speech had changed. He focused on his immediate surroundings again and saw that President Ellis had half-turned toward him.

 

"And although I am astonished that this honor has not been bestowed before," Ellis said, "I am grateful and honored to present the Medal of Honor to Captain Steven Grant Rogers."

 

Steve stood at attention while President Ellis stepped behind him and fastened the medal’s blue ribbon around his neck. Then the president stepped forward to face him and offered his hand.

 

"Welcome back, Cap."

 

"Thank you, Mr. President." Steve shook his hand, not quite ready to say that it was good to be back. But anything else he might have said was lost when the attendees began to applaud.

 

President Ellis stepped back, applauding too, and then the audience was on its feet, and Steve felt his face flushing. This was the part he’d never be comfortable with – the acclaim from strangers, many of whom had no understanding of what he’d done or why he did it, let alone why he would do it all again if given the chance.

 

But there was one, at least, who did, because she did it, too. Steve scanned the crowd, searching for Maria. She wasn’t a short woman, but still it was difficult to find her in this crowd. Finally, he caught a glimpse of her and she met his gaze with a smile and a nod.

 

Steve smiled back, and then swept his gaze across the audience, including them all as he’d learned to do on all those USO tours.

 

After a few more minutes, the applause died down and President Ellis once more took the podium.

 

"Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen. This concludes the formal ceremony, but I’d like to invite you to join Captain Rogers and me for a reception in the next room. Thank you."

 

#

 

The reception turned out to be somewhat more than canapes and cocktails - almost a full sit-down meal, in fact, and Steve was glad he had Maria's familiar presence beside him while he made small talk with President and Mrs. Ellis and the other two couples at their table - the New York senator and congressman for Brooklyn's district and their spouses.

 

This was the kind of talk Steve would never be comfortable with, but he asked himself how Bucky would've acted and, despite the pain that came with the thought, found somewhat steady ground.

 

Finally, it was over, and Steve was offering Maria his arm to walk her back to their hotel.

 

The White House staff had offered a car, and Steve deferred to Maria's preference. Maria had barely glanced at him before saying, "It'll be good to walk a little after this."

 

It was good, Steve thought. Even if he hadn't gotten a chance to mention the others who deserved the Medal as much or more than he did, the ceremony itself was a reminder.

 

"Have you thought about what you’ll do now?" Maria asked after a while.

 

Steve couldn’t help chuckling a little. "I've been thinking about that for a while."

 

"And?"

 

"And I don’t know," Steve admitted. It felt good to talk to someone, even if that someone wasn’t a close friend. Maybe it felt good because they weren’t close. "I thought about rejoining the Army, but as you said, bureaucracies don’t handle unusual situations well."

 

Maria gave him an appraising look. "SHIELD does."

 

"I only heard of SHIELD a couple of weeks ago, and then we were fighting aliens. I don’t know much about it."

 

"What do you want to know?"

 

"Whatever you wouldn’t tell me if you were trying to convince me to join."

 

Maria flicked a startled glance at him. "That’s an odd thing to say."

 

"I don’t want a sales pitch. I want the truth. I trust you to give it to me."

 

"As far as I know or can say," Maria qualified. "Some things are still classified."

 

"Some things should be."

 

"All right, then." Maria paused, chewed a bite of avocado before she spoke again. "SHIELD grew out of the Strategic Scientific Reserve. In fact, it was founded by the people involved in Project Rebirth – Colonel Chester Phillips, Howard Stark, and Margaret Carter."

 

"Peggy?" Steve couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. He hadn’t yet read completely through the files Fury had given him, and this was the first hint he’d gotten of Peggy’s life after the war.

 

"Peggy," Maria confirmed. "Stark funded it, Phillips was chief of field operations, and she was our first director."

 

"Director," Steve murmured. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he thought. If anyone had enough strength of will and determination to see something like SHIELD through, it would’ve been Peggy Carter. And if anyone could build an organization he'd be proud to stand with, Peggy could.

 

Steve adjusted Maria's hand in his elbow. "Tell me more."


End file.
